


Normal

by analog_romeo



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, F/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analog_romeo/pseuds/analog_romeo
Summary: Enmeshment is a psychological term that describes a blurring of boundaries between people, typically family members.





	Normal

Beth was always daddy’s special little girl, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

After her mom died, it felt like Beth’s responsibility to take her place. Most of the time it didn’t feel like she had a choice. It was just expected of her.

Wherever she went, whatever she did, she was always at her dad’s side. She was his right-hand man, his best friend, and part of her mom. She was beautiful. Her dad always told her so. 

No one ever questioned the level of intimacy Rick shared with his daughter, instead they commended it. They adored it. They envied it. They marvelled at it as innocent and pure. Onlookers were blinded by what presented itself to be sweet, just a close bond between father and daughter. No one questioned the authenticity of Beth’s smiles as Rick bounced her on his lap at dinners, leaned her against him at movies, kissed her on the lips when dropping her off at school.

What they didn’t see was neither Rick nor Beth ever slept in their own rooms. Rick abandoned the bed he shared with his wife after she died, except when he was drunk and emotional. Instead he took up the couch in the living room, inviting Beth to sleepovers. He’d help lug her mattress into the room and sit it on the floor next to the couch, and they would fall asleep to the television.

The normalcy of the sleepovers soon faded when alcohol mixed with grief and left a pit in Rick’s stomach that resembled loneliness. The ache could only be suppressed with his love for his daughter for so long, until his love and yearning for his wife twisted it with something awful.

He gazed down at his nine year old daughter. “You’re growing up so fast,” he awed. “You’re such a big girl now, Beth,”

_Daddy’s beautiful little girl._

* * *

It started slow, gradually transitioning into a nightmare and then back into normalcy. It began with “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, sweetie - you can sleep up here with me.”

It was a fatherly gesture of love. Beth accepted it without a second thought.

Then came the nights where he would sleep without a shirt. Like before he cradled her close, and she would fall asleep slower than usual, mildly conflicted; his chest was so warm, but it itched with hair and she felt something she couldn’t quite put a name to. Maybe it was arousal. Maybe it was disgust. She didn’t know the first word, and she didn’t feel disgust quite strong enough to label it that. That was too harsh a word. It was just her dad, after all. There was nothing wrong with what they were doing.

Sooner than later he would drop to sleeping in just underwear. Now both the unnamable feelings swirled with more vigor. The warmth of his chest was rivaled by a warmth she could feel through his underwear. She felt too close, and wanted to pull away--but his grip was too strong, and she couldn’t. Some of these nights she could feel the heat rising until it touched her through a layer of fabric. She wanted to cry or throw up, but she didn’t feel she had the right to. She barely even knew what was happening, or what to call the heat she simultaneously felt growing between her own legs. The sickness in her stomach felt like a brick.

Nights passed like this until one night came when Rick seemed to be asleep, and Beth felt sleep pulling her in as well. But the warmth came closer, until it pressed against her. Finally the sick feeling overcame the other one. She knew what she felt was a part she was taught was private. And it was _her dad’s._ A _grown-up._

But what if it was just an accident?

She tried to sleep through it, but his arms pulled tighter. And he pulled closer. Finally he withdrew, but pressed up against her again, harder. He kept doing this until Beth felt heat rising in her own private parts. She choked and swallowed her vomit. Rick got rougher, and faster, and started grunting. Beth felt scared and sick and confused. All of a sudden she felt a different type of heat, wet and sticky, pressing against her through her dad’s underwear. She bit her lip until it bled so she wouldn’t cry. Hot tears stained her face anyway.

* * *

This didn’t happen every night. She started to sleep in her own bed again, which Rick didn’t outwardly object to. But every once in a while, he would offer for her to sleep with him. Beth was afraid to say no - she knew her father could be very, very scary when he drank. To her relief, the first time she said yes again nothing happened. Nor the second time. Nor the third time.

Soon she fell into the trap of normalcy. Maybe it was just an accident. Maybe that won’t happen again. She let relief wash over her as she started to fall asleep.

Then she felt his hand creep in between her legs.

* * *

The first couple times were painful to say the least, but Beth soon learn how to mentally clock out when it happened. She also soon learned that she couldn’t say no. She tried sleeping in her own bed on the floor again, which deterred him for a while, but not for long. If need be, he would just move to her bed.

It started to slow down when Rick noticed his daughter starting to take on hints of his own sadistic behavior. He could only blame the absence of his wife for what he did for so long, until the special love he had for his daughter was replaced by the cold cynicism he held for life in general. His wife’s death made him bitter. This became apparent fast. His daughter was obviously the first to notice.

And as he noticed, she began to change as well. While half-way still a happy-go-lucky little girl, her eyes glassed over more often. She became rougher around the edges, her social skills more manic than most people her age. Other kids withdrew from her, and she often came to her scientist dad with strange requests for inventions.

_A whip that forced people to like you. Fall-asleep darts. A taser shaped like a labybug._

When questioned Rick blamed his daughter’s behavior on the death of her mother. Knowing that it was really the ramifications of his own actions, he slowed down a bit.

The incidents during living room sleepovers became more intermittent. Usually they only stemmed from alcohol, so Beth began to know when to expect it. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, until the years began to blur and became one big amalgamation of slurred time that Beth’s memories faded in and out of.

* * *

One night at age 12, Rick drunkenly passed out before he could do anything. Beth tried to fall asleep to whatever movie was on, but kept getting distracted by a feeling she recognized from a couple years back. Now that she was older, that feeling started to manifest on its own, most of the time without the aid of her dad. And as she’d discovered from the few chances she got with privacy, there was also a way she could fix that feeling.

She didn’t want to in front of her dad, but her dad was asleep. She was laying literally a foot away from her, but on the couch. She felt so wrong as she slipped her pants and underwear down, but she needed release. And how would he know? He’s _asleep._

And why does it matter? With everything he’s seen and done to her already, how does this change anything between them? Everything’s already ruined. She can’t soil something her father had already soiled.

So she masturbated.

What is normal, after it’s been twisted so far beyond repair? When the abnormal is repeated almost every day for years, it becomes normal. A newly defined normal that shapes itself around this new life.

And thus, normalcy is restored.


End file.
